Tisn't the Season
by Follow-ur-Shadow
Summary: The group stakeout a Halloween party. Written for the October 2013 monthly challenge on Paint It Red. Prompt used is mistletoe and wine and when lies become truth. Jisbon.


**Tisn't the Season**

**Category**: Romance

**Pairing**: Jisbon

**Summary**: The group stakeout a Halloween party.

**Warnings**: none

**Disclaimer**: Own zilch :P

**Authors Notes**: Written for the October 2013 monthly challenge on Paint It Red. Prompt used is **mistletoe and wine and when lies become truth. **

* * *

Jane's smile instinctively broadens as he takes in the arrival of Rigsby and Vanpelt making their way through the colourful crowd.

Grace is honouring a time old Halloween tradition dressed as little red riding hood and Wayne is obviously playing her protector the hunstmen. Neither have cheaped out on effort -a testimony to their enthusiasm- and he suddenly wishes he'd gone with the adult pirate costume he _so_ had his eye on.

Instead he's opted for a more conservative approach, a superman t-shirt under his three piece suit. The thick rimmed glasses make the hero ensemble a little more obvious but the costume's nowhere near as extravagant as a fairytale outfit, though it still beats the hell out of Lisbon and Cho's feeble attempt to blend in. At first they were adamant against any sort of dress-up escapade inferring that their job was simply to go along to the party and keep an eye on things or more specifically, the intricately entwined group of 'friends' embroiled in their latest murder case.

It took some manipulating the finer details but he finally managed to convince them that undercover was their best shot at outing the killer and the two agents had very reluctantly agreed to play along.

Though calling their outfits 'costumes' is a stretch at most.

Cho is still in his standard work suit, the only difference being he's wearing dark shades, a hat and labelling himself a Blues Brother. Lisbon isn't much better but at least the little black dress is more aesthetically pleasing to the eye and the witches hat, though not very original, is a nice touch... even if Glinda would have been a far better match. The fact was something he wanted to bring it to her attention but he was promptly silenced when he asked where she was keeping her gun hidden.

Needless to say the conversation ended rather abruptly and he's thankful the two agents have arrived to dispel the awkward air.

"I brought mistletoe and _wine_-" Rigsby waves the items simultaneously, his grin fading as three confused expressions land on him. In all fairness Grace warned him the two favours wouldn't go down well and the next thing he feels is her elbow in his side and a muttered, "I told you so." He's indifferent to the gloating and shrugs his shoulders in earnest, "hey, it's a party isn't it?"

"Mistletoe is Christmas, not Halloween." Cho puts it's bluntly, nodding towards the green sprig. On one hand it makes no difference whatsoever. They're here to catch a killer not nitpick about holiday festives... but he likes the structure of traditions and short of dressing as a zombie Santa there's simply no place for the December gimmick.

"And don't even think about it-" Lisbon points towards the wine, trying to sound stern but there's a hint amusement to her voice, "we're on duty remember?" He pouts and she fails to hide a smile as Vanpelt tugs the alcohol from his hand with a raised brow. It's a cute exchange but they have work to do and this time she uses her 'boss' tone to grab their attention, "come on, let's canvas the place out. Cho you take up top, Rigsby and Vanpelt stay by the bar, Jane and I will work the floor."

They split up following the order and she nods to Jane, "now would be a good time to share that hunch I _know_ you have..."

"Well you're not wearing your belt, so that's out. No pockets I can see-" he alludes to the whereabouts of her gun, despite the reaction it caused last time and can't help casting his gaze down towards her short skirt. He knows for a fact it isn't hidden there but cant resist the urge to tease her. "Either you're doing a Bond girl-" he lifts his eyes back up to her red cheeks, "_or _it's in your purse."

"Jane, I'm being serious... what do you know?" She asks with a glare, fighting the desire to pull down her dress as his eyes dart back to the hem. Flattering as his attention is, it's entirely inappropriate for the situation and it reminds her that the attire is definitely not suited to an undercover operation. They could have just as easily blended in with civilian clothes and she mentally kicks herself for giving in to him so easily.

"Relax Lisbon, take a load off...enjoy the party-" he motions with his hand around the room pretending not to notice her embarrassment waning under a flare of irritation. He knows who the killer is. It came to him this morning somewhere between his first cup of tea and the daily sodoku puzzle but he's lithe to ruin the surprise. After all, they did get dressed up... it would be a shame to put all that effort to waste.

"What did you have in mind?" She concedes with a sigh, hoping it's nothing too sinister or antagonistic. The last thing she wants to do is make a scene but as his broad charming smile makes an appearance she can't help but warm to him, "whatever it is, no tricks."

"How about a treat then?" He waits for her tentative smile and steals her hand leading them in the direction of the food. There are tables full of Halloween themed lollies and cakes, some a little too lifelike for him to try but a bowl of jelly worms immediately makes him smile, "oh dear, at least they're not alive this time..."

"Very funny." She rolls her eyes but despite herself shivers at the memory of flesh-eating bugs. It was the first and only time -unrelated to an injury- that she's ever fainted and honestly it couldn't have occurred in worse company. Most people would apply a little humility but not Jane. He seems to enjoy bringing it up and usually he does it right when she's on the cusp of forgetting the whole embarrassing ordeal. "It was gross ok? Bugs are just... icky."

"No you're right, I completely understand," he presses, taking a handful of the gummy chews, "bugs are icky. It's just fortunate dead bodies are so fluffy and and all round cuddly to look at..."

Her hand slaps his arm in annoyance and he smirks raising an amused eyebrow. Try as he might the oddity of her reaction was and still is a mystery to him. She's certainly not the 'passing out' type and he's sure there's more to the story, he just needs to bide his time until she's willing to part with the information.

"So, if it's not Halloween and it's not Thanksgiving which holiday is it then?"

"Which holiday is what?" She feigns interest though her attention is split as a new group of people arrive. If one of them is their suspect then Jane's not giving anything away, his mind focused solely on explaining his question.

"Come on," he urges, passing over a bowl of eyeballs and picking up a green cupcake instead, "everybody has at least _one_ holiday they look forward to."

"Even if that were true I bet you-"

"Forth of July." He answers without hesitation. Even though he gave up celebrating it a long time ago there's still a nostalgic warmth that follows watching fireworks explode in the night sky. As a boy he longed for the closing celebrations of the carnival, the chance to escape his and his father's wrong doings. The vibrant colourful show was his reprieve, the calm before the next storm and he never grew tired of gazing up at the beautifully illuminated sky.

"Christmas-" she finally decides, unable to fault the time of year. Sure it could be a little lonely, particularly in recent years but when she was younger she and her brothers had always made an effort and the memories might not be perfect but she likes to recall the time when her family wasn't so distanced. "I remember one year Tommy nearly burnt the house down trying to bake cookies, I swear he still can't... _Jane_?"

She turns to where his gaze has fixated, aware he's no longer listening to the story. She's tempted to feign offence but he's obviously twigged onto something important and she focuses her own thoughts away from the holidays and back to the reason why they're here.

He's still for another moment and then points to a spandex clad costume sleuthing through the crowd, "there, that's your man...or women, _cat-_women actually."

"No way," she says, raising an eyebrow sceptically. The person they're looking for stole at least half a million in antique jewellery from the victim after she was killed and the fact he's alluding the cat-burglar is responsible just seems way too far fetched... even on a night like Halloween. "Isn't that a little clichéd?"

"Exactly," he regards the comment with a knowing smile, "it's _too_ obvious. Clever, hiding in plain sight."

She squints at the figure and even though it's hard to tell she's sure she can identify the women through the costume. "Isn't that the victims sister?"

He nods silently and she pulls her mouth lips down in a pensive frown. The women was a mess, utterly distraught when they first arrived at the scene and if she was acting then she deserves an Oscar. 'How do you know?"

"When lies become truth..." he says, watching the women movements with a critical eye, "she said she loved her sister but she didn't, not until after she was dead. That wasn't grief we were witnessing, that my dear was guilt."

It takes her all of a second to act on his hunch, popping the clasp on her purse and digging out her radio. He might be wrong but it's highly unlikely. They've been in this situation enough times before, banking everything on his logic and it rarely ever fails. "Cho... Rigsby... four o'clock on Catwomen. Jane thinks she's the murder."

"Uh-oh, looks like she's headed for the roof..." he keeps his eyes trained on the latex, watching the women's every move while Lisbon takes the next course of action.

"We'll follow," she says firmly into the radio, "you guys see if there's a fire escape and head her off."

"Copy that."

"We're on it."

She clicks off the device and trades it for the gun in her purse keeping it drawn low and down by her side. The last thing she wants to do is arouse suspicion and she nods towards the exit fixing Jane with what she hopes is an authoritative stare, "lets go... and remember you're not actually made of steel."

"Please-" he huffs jokingly, following as they make their way through the crowd of people, "there is definitely nowhere in _that_ costume to hide a gun."

She rolls her eyes, choosing to ignore his fixation with concealed weapons as they near the fire escape. Instead she just urges him to be careful, tentatively opening the door to the stairwell. "Stay behind me."

"No arguments here. You're one badass bi...I mean _witch_." Again she lets the comment slide and he follows her up the steps shivering as cold air blows down the tunnel. He can see why. The door to the roof is wide open banging in the gale force winds and he's dismayed to see the light spatter of rain coming down.

He watches Lisbon disregard her hat and blanches against the unfavourable conditions as they reach the opening, catching a sudden movement to their left. The women's about a hundred metres ahead of them and he blinks at the water fogging up his glasses, "there!"

Lisbon turns quickly, raising her gun at the blur, "CBI, stay where you are!"

The order is ignored and she breaks out in pursuit of the suspect with Jane hot on her heels, literately. The boots she's wearing are really not made for running and she curses as the suspect in black disappears up to the next level, escaping via a narrow rusty ladder.

"Turn around-" she shoots Jane a warning glare, not at all amused by his smirk. It's his fault she's in the damn dress in the first place and there's no way in hell she's letting him go after the suspect first. "Do not look until I tell you, got it?"

"Lisbon come on, I'm not going to-"

"Jane, so help me if you argue right now."

"Fine..." he lifts his hands in surrender, begrudgingly turning away from her. It's not like he would have looked or more to the point, not like he would have seen anything with the rain skewering his vision.

When she's sure he's not going to move she lets out a slow breath, putting her foot on the first rung and using the banister to pull herself up. Her gun clangs loudly against the metal but she perseveres with the awkwardness, silently wishing for her holster as she navigates the hold. She's about half-way when Jane suddenly calls out to her, his voice piercing her concentration and she barely has time to react as her heel slips off the wet rung.

The weapon is the first thing to go, bouncing loudly down the tin roof and she spares a momentarily breath of relief thankful that the safety was still on. The comfort doesn't last long though. Somewhere between finding her footing and trying to pull herself back up, the rung gives way and her body canters back in a free-fall. She immediately tenses preparing for the inevitable pain... but it doesn't come. Instead she lands with a muffled thud in Jane's arms, her hands instinctively curling around his neck to keep from slipping.

"Nice catch-" she pants breathlessly, trying to slow the adrenaline rushing through her body. His eyes are a mixture of surprise and concern and if she wasn't so embarrassed she'd be tempted to call him on the uncharacteristic speechlessness.

Jane swallows roughly, completely unprepared for the intimate feel of her body in his arms. Realistically he knows he should be setting her down, moving or doing something that isn't standing around like a wordless idiot... but even the quip about too many donoughts dies uselessly in the back of his throat.

"You ok-" he finally manages, a hint of regret betraying the words. If he hadn't been so impatient, hadn't called out to her... she would never have lost her footing in the first place. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"I'm fine," she quickly assures, trying to ease his display of genuine guilt. It's not something she gets to see often and she's touched that he's actually concerned until she catches the warmth starting to seep through his fogged up glasses. "No, you are not allowed to enjoy this..."

He hesitates for a beat, shifting her gently in his arms. He is enjoying it... and Freud would certainly have a lot to say about that. "There might be a few childhood fantasies being fulfilled right now, I honestly couldn't say..." he concedes, a small smirk drifting onto his lips.

She rolls her eyes, tightening her grip despite his seemingly effortless hold. The term deceptively strong comes to mind and she makes a mental note to ride him a little harder next time he opts out of helping with the physical chores of police work. "Ok, well if you're done playing Superman... you can put me down now."

"I suppose I _could_ do that, yes."

But he doesn't and she doesn't offer any more encouragement to do so, too lost in his playful gaze. Again it's something she rarely gets to see and despite every instinct screaming that she shouldn't feel safe in his arms, she does... in a way that she hasn't felt in a long, _long_ time.

"_Jane_..."

There's a hint of warning to her tone but it's filled with uncertainty and he quickly realises they're at an impasse. Neither wants to let the moment pass but neither are willing to make a move, leaving them in an awkward situation. He _wants_ to and he knows she wants him to... the notion far from being egotistical. He can see it in her eyes, the slight pout of her lips encouraging him to take the initiative and for once he wants to damn his pride.

Hesitating on the possibility, he leans forward testing how far the desire is going to take him when a voice suddenly shouts out above them.

"Hey, we've got the-" Rigsby stops abruptly taking in the situation with a beat, "boss, you ok?" He calls down, not sure whether to be concerned, confused or all of the above.

Lisbon scrambles out of Jane's arms so fast he nearly drops her but they manage to separate themselves with some degree of decorum and she forces a smile up through the light spattering of rain, "I'm fine, slight mishap but we're both ok."

Rigsby inclines his head, not sure how to respond to the situation but he decides deniability is probably the best way to go -at least for now- and chooses not to make a comment on their odd behaviour. "We've got the suspect and a better way down, we'll meet you inside."

Lisbon watches his shadow disappear over the edge and takes a deep breath, preparing to start back when she catches a flash of green in her peripheral vision. With Jane it could mean anything but the hand on her waist suggests it's not one of his usual antics and she's proved right when his lips collide with hers. The kiss is soft and salty from the rain, his gentle pressure encouraging her to respond and she does too caught up in the moment to do anything but absorb his warmth. She quickly realises it's the sort of feeling she could lose herself in for hours and she's more than a little disappointed when he suddenly pulls away, nodding up towards the sky.

She follows his gaze, blinking through the rain to see the sprig of mistletoe he's holding above them, "how did you-"

"Oh, I have my ways..." he smiles seductively, slipping the gimmick safely back into his vest pocket. "I do what I can to uphold traditions, stop the bad guys, save the world... all in a days work really."

Her face flushes deeply, the realisation causing her mouth to hang limply. She ought to be berating him, pointing out how entirely inappropriate it was for him to pull such a trick like but she's still to enamoured to respond. It's only when he takes her hand that she reacts, forcing her feet to move and follow his footsteps back through the rain.

She gets the distinct feeling they're not going to talk about it, for now at least. It'll just be categorised as one of his weird idiosyncrasies and she's sort of ok with that. It gives her time to think, get used to the potential possibilities.

And who knows...

Maybe when Christmas does roll around she'll be ready to find her own sprig of mistletoe and embrace the tradition.

* * *

AN: Really sorry for any mistakes, it's quite late but I wanted to get this out before Halloween :)


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